There's a spot of blood on the cover of the boppy I used when I nursed Elise. It's small. And it's round. Faded by time. Nonetheless, still there.
I don't know how it came to be there. Probably a remnant from an after-nursing BG test. Sometimes at night, when I would nurse her before bed, she would fall asleep on that boppy.
And we would do one last test, before we carefully carried her to her crib to gently lay her down for the night. Perhaps in one careless moment, we didn't wipe her tiny finger well enough.
I've tried to get it out, but it remains. A reminder of just how little Elise was when she was diagnosed. Only 12 months old.
I pulled out the boppy the other day, one of the many things to clean and get ready for the new baby. And I saw the spot. It took my breath away.
Like Lady Macbeth, I am haunted by the blood. Only the blood I see is real. And it's not going away. Just like my daughter's diabetes, that spot is here to stay.
Out, out damn spot.
Maybe one day.
1 day ago